


Pretending

by Schattenmalerin



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego learns to be a good brother?, Diego's not good with feelings, Drug Addiction, Gen, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Klaus has fear of loss, Klaus is afraid of his brother dying, Klaus is blaming himself for Ben's and Dave's death, Klaus lashing out at Diego, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Spoilers, and Klaus has too much of them on his plate, and then crying his heart out, hugs (finally!), sibling bonding (at least a bit i guess)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:05:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schattenmalerin/pseuds/Schattenmalerin
Summary: ***"If I don't come out in two minutes that means I'm probably dead."It's that cynical, dry humor being so typical for Diego and maybe it isn't meant serious, it definitely isn't meant completely serious, but it doesn't matter right now, because something inside Klaus snaps and Dave's lifeless eyes turn to brown ones and the body he's mourning for isn't the love of his life's anymore, but his brother's.***Klaus is having a hard time dealing with his problems and Diego isn't making it any easier by joking about dying.Or: My take at how the "chasing Hazel and Cha-Cha at the motel"-scene in episode 5 could have went down.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Rewriting of the scene in the motel with Klaus and Diego going after Hazel and Cha-Cha.  
> I was really pissed at Diego for saying "If I don't come out in two minutes that means I'm probably dead" to Klaus just right after Klaus had told him that he lost someone special and showed that he was in a vulnerable state of mind.  
> So this is basically my take on how Klaus also could have reacted to Diego's comment.

"Dammit Klaus," Diego hisses, jolting out of his combat stance to glare at him. "Didn't I tell you to wait in the fucking car?"

Klaus knows he did. Knows Diego decided his drunk, poor ass is more a liability than help and ordered him to stay in the car.

And Klaus being Klaus decided just not to listen and follow him anyway.

There isn't any other possibility really. The car is filled with thoughts of Dave and memories of bloody hands and wounds and helicopter blades whirring in the air and gunshots echoing in his ears, pulling him down into a dark, endless circle of pain and fear and grief and the feeling of _just not being high or drunk enough for any of this shit_.

It messes with his head, even more than the drugs do. Which, right now, would be a welcome relief, because the alcohol in his blood made him slightly dizzy and nauseous, but isn't quite enough to make him numb. _And fuck_ , Klaus thinks while squinting at the almost empty bottle in his hand, _there isn't nearly enough whiskey left to ever reach that state of blissful numbness._

Diego throws a demanding, still annoyed look at him and Klaus being Klaus decided to swallow every kind of emotional response lying on his tongue, instead going with a casual, almost bored shrug.  
"Yeah well, you also told me that licking a nine-volt battery would give me pubes."

Diego buys his feigned languidness, head turning toward him as Klaus takes another gulp of whiskey, bitter taste filling his mouth. Of course he bought it, they always do. It's what Klaus does best: Pretending, faking. Being the irresponsible, flamboyant and careless junkie they always take him for. The greatest disappointment of the Hargreeves family.

"We were eight," and he says it like that is answer enough, no further explanation necessary.

And it is.  
Explanation enough to understand why Klaus is the way he is now, because which eight-year old kid with the ability to see and hear the dead wouldn't get traumatized by being locked up all night in a mausoleum with dozens of pale, scary, bloodied, torn up faces screaming at him for help, threatening him, trying to touch him?

Which thirteen-year old boy with the opportunity to numb the voices, to keep the scary, screaming ghosts at bay wouldn't turn to drugs, craving for every high, for every second of complete and utter silence, for a moment of peace, _numbness_?

Which father would put his son through such bloodcurdling terrors?

Klaus knows the answer, knows it too well, and it shouldn't hurt anymore, but it still does sometimes.

Yes, they were eight.  
And sometimes, when he isn't high enough, when the ghosts are too loud, too many, too _close_ , he is eight again and curled up into a tiny ball on the dirty, dusty and cold ground, hands over his ears, eyes pressed close to block out the ghost around him. A vain attempt, because they are already in his head, the traumatic experience manifested in his mind, making him go crazy.

Klaus' hand around the bottle trembles noticable and with a blink of an eye he snaps out of it, shrugging slightly, partly to get back into reality, partly as a dissmissive answer to Diego's words, before making a nonchalant step forward.

They are here for Hazel and Cha-Cha, the guys that kidnapped and tortured him.  
Just another small piece on top of the huge pile of shit that resembles his life.

"Uh uh uh." Diego grabs him by his coat, pulling him back toward the stairs, a displeased expression and Klaus doesn't even have to struggle against the grip, against his brother, because it's already a lost fight. It's always a lost fight, no matter if his opponent is his father, his ignorant siblings or the drugs. It's life for him.  
Still, Klaus does put up resistance. As he mentioned before, he's good at pretending. Pretending there may be the slightest chance to win, somehow, somewhere, someday.

So with that innocent expression he perfected over the years and a pleading pout he blinks at his brother.  
"What? Come on, Diego. I can-"

Diego isn't having any of it, only maneuvering him further down the stairs, careful not to accidentally bring him to fall, but determined nonetheless.  
"For once in your life," he begins, stopping at the end of the stairs to take Klaus' face in both his hands, forcing him to put his attention to Diego, "I need you to listen to me, okay?"

Klaus snorts quietly, because really, that isn't fair at all, now is it?  
He had listened to his brother before, okay?  
All the times Diego - and Luther - had told him not to make such a fuss about his _special training sessions_ with his father, all the times the other had told him that he should be thankful for the _special attention_ received by the old man… and Klaus can feel the envious glares in his back again, as if he is right back in his teenager self, as if all these additional _special training sessions_ were an honor, were something Klaus should be grateful for.

He had never found out if any of his siblings (except from Ben, Ben always had been aware of everything about him) actually knew what exactly his special training involved.

Still, he had listened to them and it made him feel miserable, useless, a looser, coward. A nobody, because while every one else improved their powers, were a reasonable help on missions, he was the one sibling to just _tag along_ , standing useless in the corner, cracking stupid jokes to cover up the fact that he'd rather be at home with Vanya or nowhere after all.

"Now go back to the car." Diego's voice pulls him out of his thoughts and Klaus shakes his head, almost hysterically fast while grabbing at his brother's forearm in desperation, letting the bottle of whiskey drop to the ground heedlessly.

He can't go back there, to the drowning, lonely silence of the car, which turns into gunshots and helicopter sounds and painful grunts and terrified screams - _"Dave! Dave! Medic, we need a medic!"_ \- and heartbreaking sobs - _"No no no no, Dave, p-please don't leave m-me! Don't leave me! D-Dave!"_ \- and fragmented memories of blood on his hands and blood on his clothes and blood pouring out of Dave's chest and … he can't go back _there_. He can't face Dave, because all he sees is his lifeless body in his arms, his blue eyes dull and unmoving, his lips without that smile which had swept Klaus off his feed the first time he was gifted to see it.

"I-I can't- I-"

And Diego doesn't understand, doesn't notice the frame of mind he is in right now, doesn't notice the uncontrollable trembles shooting through his body aren't a result of his drug withdrawal, but something much more concerning.  
His brother doesn't get it, otherwise he never would have made the next comment.

"If I don't come out in two minutes that means I'm probably dead."

It's that cynical, dry humor being so typical for Diego and maybe it isn't meant serious, _it definitely isn't meant completely serious_ , but it doesn't matter right now, because something inside him snaps and Dave's lifeless eyes turn to brown ones and the body he's mourning for isn't the love of his life's anymore, but his brother's.

An uncontrollable feeling of both ice cold fear and burning hot anger rushes through his veins and his fist collids with Diego's arm - and it has many times before, in a playful manner. But this time it's hard and brutal and charged up with all the ugly emotions bundled up inside him and if it had been someone else than Klaus' weak ass who threw the punch it almost certainly would have sent Diego back a few paces. Instead Diego huffs an angered "Oww", before trapping Klaus' slender wrist in a deadly grip.

"You crazy?! What the fuck wa-!"

"You don't get to say that, asshole!" Klaus cuts him short, his voice a loud thunder, his right hand trying to get out of the harsh grip, the other desperately clinging onto Diego's sweater, as if his body can't decide if it wants to run away from Diego as far as possible or stay by his side as close as possible.

"Who are you calling an asshole, asshole?", Diego's voice isn't any less furious than his own, as he grabs Klaus' chin with his free hand and forces his brother to look at him. "You're the one pissing off every-"

"You," Klaus screams back, not even giving the slightest fuck about those two up in the motel hearing them, now poking his finger into the muscular chest in front of him. "I call _you_ an asshole! Y-you don't get to—to _joke_ about that shit," he breathed heavily through his nose, yanking his chin out of Diego's grasp to look sideways, hiding behind sweaty strands of brown hair, feeling too vulnerable all of a sudden with the approaching tears in his eyes.

"Oh, but you get to joke about everything and everyone however you want, hm?" Cynical, cold. _Disappointed_. "Now that ain't fair, Klaus." _Lecturing_.

_And oh fuck everything, it is fair, it is so fucking fair, because:_

"Yeah, I get to do that, _dear brother_ ," Klaus hisses, voice strained, resentment oozing in the nickname, "It's how you, how all of you, see me anyway, isn't it?" A bitter laugh escapes his lips, but it sounds more like a pathetic sob. How fitting. "The funny, but useless brother, hm? The junkie? _Oh, funny little Klaus, always good for a joke, but better not take him with you on a mission_ , right? _Better not take him fucking serious, he's high anyway!_ "

By now he had lifted his head, now straight up glaring at Diego with teary eyes, seeing the same anger in his brother's face, seeing the same disappointment and irritation. And then seeing the hard expression in those brown orbs soften, as Diego glanced at his wet cheeks, his tear filled eyes.

His mouth opens, unsure, dumb-struck, just to close itself again, just to open itself again, but without any sound coming out and it looks almost comical, almost makes Klaus laugh, because it reminds him of the few nice moments in their childhood. Moments where Diego wouldn't get a word out of his mouth without stuttering and Klaus would stand next to him, patting his shoulder in a comforting gesture, maybe humoring him with one of his wittful comments, which might be a little more teasingly than suitable, but nevertheless with an encouraging and loving touch to it. He would manage to help Diego through his stuttering, cheering him on, before closing his arms around his smaller, but stronger brother, hearing the other teen huff surly at Klaus' constant need for physical contact, but hugging him back after the short moment of embarrassment vanished, displaying the same amount of affection for him.

As much as Klaus hates his childhood, those moments were the small ray of light in the darkness consuming him.  
And he misses it. Misses the feeling of his brother's arms around him, the warmth of his body, the feeling of being needed. Of needing someone and of someone _actually being there._  
He misses Diego's hugs.  
And he misses Ben's even more, so fucking much it hurts him physically to see the incorporeal ghost of his brother every fucking second in his life.  
And Dave, he can't start thinking about Dave or else he's going to break down.

"I get to do that, but you, Diego," Klaus continues, voice trembling, broken, "you don't! You don't get to joke about that. You don't get to die and leave me fucking alone, you hear me?!" His hands clutch at the other's sweater, hard and desperate, fearing he could vanish into thin air otherwise, only to rise up as a hollow shell of a ghost. Fearing to find him lying on the ground, a blood red hole in his chest, lifeless in his arms. "You can't die on me, n-not like B-Ben, not l-like Dave. Y-you…"

"Dave? I-I don't…" Diego stutters, overwhelmed with this emotional outburst, stopping in his tracks when hearing his little brother sobbing heartbreakingly.

Then, without any words spoken, two arms wrap themselves around Klaus' thin shoulders, pulling him close into a so familiar, but yet strange embrace and Klaus doesn't have enough strength to fight against the hug, doesn't even want to, just lets his tired, aching body sink against the warm, supporting one of his brother.

"H-Hey, p-please stop crying, K-Klaus, please, I-I'm sorry, okay? I didn't mean to— I-I…" The soft mumbled words on his ear trailed of, unsure what else to say, inexperienced about how to handle his brother's emotional revelation.

Diego has always been like this, struggling with showing feelings, with any physical contact of affection toward his siblings, with comforting others.

Klaus knows that. His brother rarely had initiated any physical contact besides fist fights when they were younger, but Klaus never had any problems with his brother's inability for showing affection, just throwing his long arms around him and holding him there until Diego had relaxed under his touch and pulled his arms cautiously around him, returning the hug.

But they're not teenagers anymore, they're not _eight_ anymore, and Klaus had a hard time finding some comfort in his siblings since they got back together over the 'terrible tragedy' their father's death is. No matter how subtle or obvious he had searched for any physical contact with Diego, the other had only pushed him away, brushed off the hand on his shoulder and squirmed out of any situation that could have led to a hug.

It felt like that small, fragile bond they shared had broken completely after they went their seperate ways and suddenly Klaus remembers the soft, warm, affectionate hugs of Ben and how cold and lonely he had felt after his favorite brother's death and then he remembers lips on his own and a body against him, _so strong and vulnerable and beautiful_ … so _dead and lifeless_ in his arms. He lost two of the most important people and Diego can't end like Ben and Dave.  
_He_ can't let him end like this.

"I don't want-" Klaus began between fragile sobs, before exhaling shakily against Diego's neck, feeling the other drawing soothing circles on his shoulderblades. "I _can't_ bear losing another important person. I-I can't-"

"Shhh, it's okay. I-I won't die, Klaus. I'm not gonna leave you, I'm not. You hear m-"

Diego's words are cut off by a symphony of gunshots and Klaus thinks he's back at the trench in the A Shau Valley, his mind is back in the Vietnam War with helicopters flying over their heads and gunshots ringing in his ear - until he hears a sharp inhale right next to him and stares at Diego's hand pressed against his upper arm, a dangerous trail of blood already tripping through his fingers. Klaus reacts reflexively, pushing his brother out of the line of fire, stumbling on the way and landing half on top of him.

A harsh hiss leaves Diego's lips, a response to either the bullet wound or the way his back collided with the stairs at their fall, and Klaus hurries to roll off of his brother, crouching next to him, finger's clutching at his brother in concern.  
The deafening sound of gunfire had ceased, still the damage was already done. In form of Diego's bleeding arm.

"A-are you okay?", Klaus exhales shakily, attempting to suppress the feeling of nausea and cold fear boiling up inside his stomach at the sight of the blood on his brother's hand.

Diego just gives him a short nod, trying to pull himself up with effort and immediately Klaus' arm wraps around his waist in support, helping him to stand up.

"See, y-you're an asshole, Diego," Klaus exclaims, tone a few octaves too high, stumbling over the words and sounding on the verge of hysteria, nerves on edge, "Just told you I don't want your dead ghost haunting me and what is your reply to your poor brother's plea? Getting shot!"  
It is meant to be witty, humorous, but the still wet tears on his cheeks and the unpreventable tremble in his voice betray Klaus' attempt at playing it cool.

"It's just a graze wound," is Diego's short response, brushing off the hand around his waist. When he looks at Klaus though, his expression softens slightly. "I'm not that easy to kill, little brother. And … I—I'm sorry. Shouldn't have joked about that. But now…" And his glance wanders down to the motel's parking lot where the blue car of those two lunatics is dashing toward the street. "We need to get them!"

"W-w-wha- _no_! No no no no, you're _shot_ , _asshole_ ," Klaus shakes his head vehemently, defiance in his eyes, "You need help, uh, a-a bandage a-and … don't know, _other first aid stuff!_ Hey!" He reaches out for Diego who already started stomping down the stairs, one hand on his wound, but as always his brother dodged his grip.

"I said I'm okay," Diego huffs back, resolute. "Now come and help me get those bastards!"

"B-but … arrg!" Klaus sighs theatralic - _of course nobody is listening to him like, ever!_ \- giving up to convince his brother, but being stubborn in helping him after hearing the suppressed painful growl.  
The smaller one gives him a look, considering to argue a moment, before closing his mouth again. This time he doesn't brush off the supporting arm around his waist, rather focusing on getting to his car as fast as his wound and a half-drunk, clumsy brother on his side allows him to.

Klaus keeps pace with Diego, however only half attendant, mind trapped somewhere between gunshots, the dirty trench in the A Shau Valley, his emotional breakdown and the sticky blood on his brother's black sweater.  
He almost misses out on Diego's "Those fuckers!" and blinks confused in the process, before following Diego's eyes and noticing the broken tires.

"Shit," Klaus mumbles, although half-heartedly. A sudden tiredness settles in and he turns slightly away from his brother, leaning with his shoulder against the ice truck next to Diego's car. Using the sleeve of his coat he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, certain to have messed up his eyeliner he'd spent so much time on this morning.  
And this thought alone forces a dry laugh to crawl out of his throat.  
Only he can be so fucked up to care about his eyeliner after crying his heart out.

"Hey Klaus? Uh, a-about …" His brother's voice is closer, and softer than expected, soaked with an alarming uncertainty and guilt and Klaus just wraps his long, slender arms around his body, defensive and evasive.  
He had always been an open person, even flamboyantly so, but right now he feels too vulnerable, too _sober_ for where this conversation is heading.

"About those things you said …"

And Klaus doesn't want to hear it, hates the feeling of being vulnerable, of something hidden so long behind his casual and carefree facade being exposed. Hates the fear of being laughed at, not taken serious or even worse, being just a fucking burden to his brother.

So Klaus being Klaus does what he's good at: Improvising.  
Grinning through the darkness consuming his mind and turning around in a spinning motion - ignoring Diego's concerned expression, ignoring the hand that floats closely over his shoulder in hesitation, now retreating slowly - he points a fingers at the ice truck.

"I'm really craving some ice cream right now. What about you?"

"Ice cream is the last thing I want right now. Look, Klaus, about tha-"

"Well, let me rephrase that," Klaus interrupts with a put-on grin, punctuating each following sentence with a tip of his finger. "I'm _gonna have_ some ice cream. While were _in that thing. Following_ those two lunatics."

Before Diego can speak up, he already rushes to the driver seat, trying to open the door and - "Tadaa," Klaus exclaimed with outstretched arms before hopping into the truck. _Lucky guess._ Something quite rare for him.

Diego follows suit, slowlier and anxious not to bump his wounded arm in the process.

"You know how to drive?"

"Oh, don't sound so suspicious, my dear brother! Of course I know how to drive..." _all of you crazy._  
  
There is no answer apart from the still doubtful frown, that gives way for the same guilty and hesitant expression though, after Klaus managed to drive the truck surprisingly safe and secure out of the parking lot.

An uncomfortable silence hangs over their heads and Klaus feels the concerned side glances of his brother, feels it brushing his frame every few seconds. Hears Diego's thoughts running wild in his head and he knows he thinks about their conversation, about Klaus' words, his outburst, questions lying on the tip of his tongue, but his own inabilities holding him back from actually pressing any further.

And Klaus being Klaus does what he's best at: Pretending not to notice.

Pretending to be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was actually so inspired and motivated that I took the last days to write a follow-up chapter to the first one.  
> This one's Diego's POV, because I liked the thought of showing his perspective of the whole situation.

Diego had lived long enough under the same roof with Klaus to know silence isn't a natural part of his brother's personality.  
He - and the rest of his siblings - experienced that fact quite early in their childhood.  
Wherever chaos and noise was, Klaus either wasn't far away or _was_ straight up _the cause_ of said noise. Whether it was his constant need to tell his siblings stuff - gushing about the cute guy he met at the disco or moaning about the physical exercise their father put them through - or asking (stupid) questions - _"How does my eyeliner look? Do I look like a pretty girl, Diego?", "Can I borrow your skirt, pretty please, dear sis?", "Can you rumor Luther not to have such a stick up his ass, thank you very much?"_ \- Klaus couldn't be stopped in his flow of speech. Whenever Klaus was in the room, there was a conversation going, either with his siblings, himself or whichever dead ghost there was.

Klaus' voice became a constant companion for all of them, so persistent and permanent, Diego had been thankful for the few times his talkative brother finally shut up and let him have his peace from time to time.

Just that eventually 'from time to time' became a more regular thing and Diego's thankfulness turned to slight concern, especially since Klaus would sometimes not attend dinner with the rest of them - or if he did, would look like death himself, more pale than usual, dull and tired. Too exhausted to eat, or speak.

It was concerning,  _alarming_  even, to see his normally so cheery brother behaving like a dull shell of himself - but Diego was young and nothing like Klaus. Not one to express his feelings openly, not one to ask if something was wrong, not the one to give those comforting, warm hugs he had always received - and inwardly cherished - from Klaus.

So he'd pushed that concern down in long term, persuading himself that Klaus' sudden quietness was due to the exhausting special training their father put all of them through. So exhausting, Diego's fingers would hurt for the next few days after throwing knives around for endless hours, forced to curve them in mid-air, hitting all kind of different targets with pinpoint accuracy. Again and again and again, until the old man would be satisfied enough to let him rest his hands and send him back to his room, where Diego would fall onto his bed, headache and tiredness putting him into a deep and much needed sleep.

He never knew what his sibling's special training involved - he made assumptions about Luther training his physical strength, Five learning to teleport through walls and rooms, while Allison and Klaus were probably more on the "verbal" side of exercise, rumoring other people or trying to talk with a ghost or whatever Klaus' power was there for. So it wasn't that surprising for Diego to see both Allison and Klaus being rather quiet after their special training sessions. Even a chatterbox like Klaus probably needed a downtime from his own voice.

Thinking back now, sitting in the ice cream truck with utter silence hanging over their head like a Damocles sword, Diego sees what his younger self hadn't been able to recognize, sees that he missed out something very important. Missed out the difference between a _tired_ , quiet Allison and a _terrified_ , quiet Klaus, missed out on Klaus' subtle but pleading glances toward his siblings every time the old Hargreeves pulled him out for special training. Missed out on Klaus' voice fading out over the years, slowly but surely, just to almost completely vanish from his memory after Ben's death.  
Missed out on the fact that however varied and fickle Klaus' personality was, silence and reticence was the one thing that didn't fit in. That should rise concern and alarm.

They all missed out on that, gave a fuck about each other, one after another breaking with whatever family bond there might had been, beginning with Five's disappearance and ending with Luther's "colonization" of the moon.

And Diego won't lie, won't tell he felt sorry for leaving, for being the first Hargreeves to leave the family under "normal" circumstances. Leaving an already fucked up Klaus alone with the monster Reginald Hargreeves was and the indestructible, deeper bond between Luther and Allison which wouldn't leave Klaus enough space to fit in, not even on the side.  
Diego was - _is?_ \- selfish like that. Determined and ambitious to live his own life, far away from Reginald and everything he associated with the Hargreeves Mansion, which was too big, too cold, too _lifeless_ to actually feel welcomed in there.

Diego's eyes dart to Klaus in the driver seat - to the black coat he looks too skinny in, to the smeared eyeliner around his still reddened eyes, to the ribbon of the rehab clinic around his slender wrist - and wonders where he went wrong. When they got so detached from each other, he didn't even recognize what was going on inside his brother's mind.  
And more pressuring: How to get things right between them again?

Diego coughs, the so familiar feeling of nervousness and fear taking over and there's a lump in his throat and he instantly knows the only sound coming out of his mouth now would be a stuttered mess of unintelligent words.  
Still, he tries. He has to. For Klaus.

"K-Klaus? Y-you know, back there, uh … about the—the things y-y-y … about the c-conversa-"

"Oh, you're right! Ice cream, we need ice cream."

"I-I'm not t-talking ab-"

"Look at the back for me, pretty please? I'm occupied with keeping that big bad boy on the road. Oh, I want strawberry, a lot of strawberry-"

"Klaus-"

"Wait, forget that! Mint chocolate chip it is! God, it's been so long since I had-

"Klaus?"

"You know, those delicious chocolate chips on top are just… Fuck, _mouthgasm_! You really-

"KLAUS!"

His own voice, loud and harsh, echoes through the ice cream truck, echoes through his own body and makes him flinch at the sharp pain in his upper arm. Klaus notices it, eyes flickering to him, to the blood on his hand and his arm, staring with a frozen expression at the blood, horrified and strangely absent-minded at the same time.

"Klaus?"

His brother chews on his lip, pulling his gaze back on the road.

"What?"

It was barely a whisper, feeble voice breaking at the end of the word and it hurts Diego, goes deeper than the bullet wound or any punch of Luther could.  
It makes Diego want to pull his arms around his brother again, telling him everything is going to be okay, everything is going to be fine.  
But how can he? Fuck, he doesn't even know what the problem at hand is. Doesn't know how to … to _ask_.

So he says the first thing coming to his mind: "W-who's Dave?"  
And regrets it immediately after seeing his brother flinch at the name as if he'd been hit. Though the green, wide eyes continue gluing to the road, seemingly in concentration, the tight grip on the wheel betrays his display of stoic serenity, whitened knuckles sticking out.

"D-Dave?"

The voice doesn't sound like his brother's. It's too vulnerable, almost with a touch of child-like innocence, not the usual sarcastic and flamboyant tone Diego is used from Klaus. It's like hearing a different Klaus, one that isn't part of his world, a voice that isn't dedicated to him, isn't meant for him to hear.

It makes him shuffle uncomfortable in his seat, voice coming out hesitant and with the all too familiar stutter.  
"Y-yeah, uh … Dave? Y-you mentioned him e-e-earlier …" Diego rubbed his neck, wishing one of his other siblings could take care of this conversation right now. One more suited for the whole ' _talking feelings and hugging afterward_ ' shit. One like…

_Oh._

And Diego snorts quietly as the only person coming to his mind for such a task is the one sitting in the driver's seat beside him. Snorts about his own blindness to recognize the worth of having Klaus in their family.

Klaus who'd been the only sibling who could encourage Diego during one of his many stutters, even with the worst jokes or clumsiest of clumsy hugs.

Klaus who'd been the one to help shy Ben to integrate himself into the group, always protective over his self-proclaimed ' _little baby brother Ben_ ' and always the first Ben turned to with problems.

Klaus who'd spent hours with Allison talking about the newest fashion trends, make-up tutorials and cute boys. Late in the evening a younger Diego would hear their loud, joyful giggles echoing out of Allison's room and he would be too embarrassed at what he'd find to actually peek in through the slightly opened door. Still, it sounded like actual _fun_.

Klaus who'd never challenged Luther for his leadership position - unlike Diego himself - always being " _Oh captain, my captain_ " and although Luther acted bugged at that comment, Diego saw how inwardly it made their Number One proud, giving him the feeling of actually being needed.

Klaus who'd been the only one allowed to put one of his lanky arms on Five's shoulder after a mission, even being regarded with one of those rare genuine smiles - and Diego had tried once, out of stubborn curiosity and absurd jealousy. It ended with Five blinking away so fast Diego stumbled and almost toppled over if it hadn't been for Luther's sturdy frame he bumped into instead. A murderous glance had been the only thing he got from Five the rest of the day.

And unlike the large rest of them Klaus had never been mean or aloof to Vanya, rather lounging on the couch with a blunt in his hand, attentively listening to her playing the violin, applauding after she finished.  
" _Look at you, dear sis, conquering my much sought-after heart with just a few strings on your violin, making all the cute boys I met in the disco jealous_ ," Diego had heard him say one of the many evenings he'd walked past the living room. He'd heard Vanya's shy giggle as a response, then Klaus' loud one mixing under hers and, after a short second of hesitation, decided to have better things to do than joining them or listening to Vanya's playing.  
Yes, he'd never given much shit about Vanya or her talent for music, but Klaus… Klaus was different. Different than all of them.

Klaus had been the glue holding all those different and varied puzzle pieces together and they thanked him by giving a fuck, taking him for granted.

Diego feels like shit and on instinct stretches out his hand, ignoring the blood on his palm and places it on top of Klaus' arm. Even through the thick fabric of his black coat he can feel the too skinny arm shaking slightly and for the first time Diego doesn't dare to brush it off as signs of drugs or alcohol consume.

For the first time he wants to actually _listen_ , instead of straight up judging.

Diego feels the glance on his hand, but rather than following his nervous reflex to retreat his hand, he darts up at Klaus, darts at the new tears forming in those green eyes.

"Puh-puh-please." He is lost for more words, just hoping that his brother understands, that he opens up to him.

Klaus' eyes turn back onto the road and Diego reckons this might not be the perfect moment for a heart to heart conversation, with them chasing after those lunatics, Diego shot and Klaus being a mental mess. But then again, there is never a perfect time for them. There never had been before, so this is as close to _perfect_ as anything else.

"We …" Klaus begins, inhaling shakily. Diego squeezes his arm softly, reassuringly. "We fought in the Vietnam War, Dave and I."

And Diego tries to understand, really, he does. Tries to understand why Klaus pumps himself so full with drugs to hallucinating such horrible things. Tries to understand what's going on with him.  
Then their visit in the Veteran's bar comes back into his memory.

"Is this why we were in the vet bar?" Diego asks quietly back. "Because you thought you were-"

"I _thought_?! No no no no, you don't get to do this!" Klaus retorts, voice harsher than anticipated, while he pulls his arm out of Diego's grasp in rejection. "I _fought_ in the Vietnam War. I _was_ there. And Dave … he …" A short sob leaves the other's mouth, still he pushes through his words, strange determination in his tone. "I didn't imagine this, Diego. I wasn't high. Even though you believe that's all I'm ever good at."

"I-"

"It was real, okay?! Dave was… _we_ were real. And he was so… so strong and vulnerable a-and beautiful and then… I-I didn't even know what happened. We were at the front line, in the trench a-and they… they were shooting at us and I was, _fuck_ , I was cracking a dumb _joke_ , you know, typical me, right?" Another sob, this time shakier and the ice cream truck sways dangerously to the left for a split second. Diego's hand was back at Klaus, this time carefully cupping his brother's hand on the wheel, trying to both keep the truck under control and supporting Klaus with whatever heartbreaking pain he's going through right at this moment.

"D-Dave, he… he didn't laugh at my joke and when I turned to him… there was blood on his shirt a-and I yelled for a medic, but they wouldn't come and Dave, he… wouldn't move a-and…and…"

Klaus' voice fades out, swallowed by a series of quiet sobs and Diego doesn't have a fucking clue what to do, to say or how to respond. So he just keeps his hand over Klaus', even if he feels the gun wound throbbing in this uncomfortable position. It's all he can do, all he is able to do.

After a few minutes Klaus calms down, breath coming out more evenly again. There is a new string tears still wandering down his cheeks, but at least the hurtful sobs stopped.

This is his signal, his time to do something, to be a fucking good brother for once.  
But he never learned how to and it becomes painfully obvious that he is even more incapable than his emotionally instable brother.

"I-I… I'm… uh…" _Yes, great job, Diego, fucking idiot!_

"You don't have to say anything," is Klaus response, before he pulls his hand out of Diego's, softly but determined, "You don't even have to believe me, okay? I've given up making you all believe me a long time ago. And now? Now it doesn't matter anymore." Diego hates how calm and composed his brother's voice sounds at that. "I lost the one person I loved the most, the only one who was really… really _there_ for me when I needed him."

And Klaus looks at him, really looks at him and Diego wishes there would be anger in his eyes, disappointment or accusations, but it isn't. There is just a tiredness in those eyes - tired of fighting for his siblings' trust, tired of trying being taken seriously - all mixed up with a profound sadness that goes deeper than anything he ever saw in Klaus' eyes.  
It goes over to Diego, leaves him helpless and with heavy guilt pulling in his stomach.

"I was ready to stay with him, you know?" Klaus sighs quietly, eyes back on the road. "Crawling on the dirty ground, gunshots ringing in my ear, shooting people and being shot at… I would have endured all that for him. I would have gladly spent the rest of my life in this hellhole of a battlefield, just to be able to hold him in my arms at night."

Diego thinks about Eudora. About her lifeless body lying on the motel floor, about her sweet smile and her own stubborn way to handle things. He felt something for her, loved her even. Still he could not even begin to imagine enduring the terrors of war just to stay by her side.  
He can't even begin to imagine what Klaus is feeling right now.

"But then he…" Klaus' voice breaks, not able to finish his sentence. Diego understands nonetheless.  
"So I time-traveled back here and I… I fucking smashed that stupid briefcase, so _now_ , I have no way to ever get back."

"B-Briefcase?"

Klaus makes a dismissive movement with his hand. "Yeah, the one I stole from Hazelnut and Muchacha, or whatever those lunatics are called. Thought there might be some cash in it, or something I can pawn. Instead it brought me right back to the Vietnam War in 1968."

"So when you said you were tortured by those two in the motel…?" Diego doesn't even dare to finish his question, voice bashful.

"I wasn't lying or high," Klaus concludes without even the slightest form of accusation or defense in his tone. "They took me hostage while they broke into the mansion. They wanted information about Five. I told them I was the last one you guys would trust with any information. They didn't believe me. Which wasn't surprising really, as it's been kind of my life motto, so yeah… They, you know, pulled the typical torture number on me. Choking, cutting, water-boarding, you get the gist of it."

"S-shit…" Diego breathes out, horrified at the revelation. How had he not recognized any of that? How could he let this happen to his brother?  
Diego feels miserable, incapable of looking at Klaus out of sheer guilt. "I… I'm so fuh-fuh-fucking sorry, Klaus. F-for what you went through and w-what those… those _assholes_ put you through. I'm… I can't…"

"Ah, don't worry. They were amateurs really. Besides, there's nothing quite like a good strangling to get the blood flowing," Klaus chuckles and one could thinks he's back to his old self, that everything is fine again. Diego though, Diego knows better now. Better than to fall for Klaus pretending to be alright. Not after seeing his facade shatter into pieces like this.  
And Diego never wants for Klaus to feel the need to pretend again, for him to play his problems down.

"The ghosts were a real pain in the ass, though," Klaus proceeds, this time more cautious with his words. As if he isn't sure if to talk about this.

"How so?" Diego asks softly back, trying to encourage his brother.

"Well, obviously I wasn't high enough to keep them at bay, so they… ah, gave me their usual screaming concert. Ben was there, tried talking me through it, but it didn't help that they locked me into the closet and I have this thing, you know…" Klaus stops a second, swallowing hard, before making a hand motion as if to illustrate his words, "this claustrophobia problem since the mausoleum and it… uh, it fucked with my head, to say the least."

Diego pricks up his ears, blinking confused. "The mausoleum?"

"Yeah, the mausoleum. My _oh-so-amazing_ special training?"

A sick feeling settles in his stomach as the words echo in his brain, but his head refuses to understand, to believe the meaning behind it. "Wuh-wuh-what are you s-saying?"

Klaus faces him for a moment, studying him in consideration and a tinge of disbelief, and raises his eyebrows as he is greeted with pure confusion and bewilderment on his features.

Then he shakes his head.  
"So you didn't know," his brother mumbles more to himself. "Huh, not surprising really. The old man made sure to separate us as much as possible. _Concentration on the mission and not on fraternizing._ God, he was such a buzzkill…"

"Klaus, what-"

"You ever wondered what everyone's special training was?" Klaus sighs. "I did. I'd imagined Luther throwing heavy weights around, as you were doing knives. Five? Well, Five's pretty self-explaining and Allison? Oh, she probably rumored more people in her special training than she did in the last 17 years. Ben… shit, Ben's wasn't pretty, let me tell you." A snort, another shake of his head, before his tone goes quieter, weaker. "Mine was the mausoleum. The old man would lock me in there for hours, over night, leaving me alone in the dark with all the dead screaming at me, threatening me, trying to touch me. Said he wanted me to learn to control my fear. Ha, look where that _special training_ got me," he laughs, but it sounds bitter and pained. "Of course I couldn't overcome my fear, I… don't know, was too weak or too frightened or whatever. Instead my fear only got worse, followed me everywhere. Soon I started hearing them everywhere, screaming in my head, clawing at me, faces blurred and bloody and with a murderous intention and… in my head I was right back in the mausoleum. It was, still is, a real pain in the ass."

Diego listened through his brother's explanation, bewildered and horrified and so fucking sorry for all the shit he's been going through, he's been pushed through. He already knew that Reginald Hargreeves hasn't been a good person, even less a good father to them, but to put a child, a terrified and scared child in such a horrible situation?  
Even feeling disgust and disdain toward Reginald is still too nice for this asshole.

"He's a fucking _monster_ ," Diego hisses out, only hatred left for their father.

"To be honest? The old man becomes pretty harmless after seeing bloody, torn up faces, slashed throats, and guts hanging out of some ghost's belly on a daily basis," Klaus counters, sarcastic chuckle escaping his mouth. "Helps with staying slim, though," he gestures to his slender frame with a fake grin, "Better than any appetite suppressant, let me tell you."

Diego can't share his brother's morbid sense of humor, not after what he just heard. He just continues to stare at his brother, open-mouthed and completely frozen in shock. He never gave much thought about Klaus' ability, always imagined there might be one or two ghosts, maybe talking to him for a little bit before leaving him be. He never would have thought it would be so… so terrifying and unbearable.

And then he remembers all the times he'd told Klaus to be honored when Reginald decided to separate Klaus for additional special training, remembers how he'd hissed at him for making such a fuss about it - _"It can't be that bad, Klaus, so stop whining about every little thing. We all have to go through with it, so stop playing the exception."_

Biting his lips in guilt and dismay, he reaches out again, hand touching the other's shoulder in careful hesitation.  
And Klaus being Klaus immediately seems to know what's going on in his head right now, because his next words are carried by a child-like kindness.

"It is not your fault, Diego. It's not."

But Diego shakes his head, vehemently, daring to make eye contact with Klaus, daring to squeeze his shoulder softly in return.  
He doesn't want an easy way out, even if Klaus is giving him one. He doesn't deserve this never-ending kindness of him.  
He deserves to feel like the shittiest brother on earth right now.  
And Klaus, _fuck_ , Klaus deserves far more than a simple apology, but Diego thinks it's a decent start.

"I'm s-sorry, Klaus. For everything. For not noticing, for not believing. For not _being there_ ," though he whispers those words, the sincerity behind it shines through, "I can't take it back, can't turn back the time, but I… I won't let you go through all this alone, okay? Not anymore, I promise."

"Y-you know, I never was a-alone actually. There is always the pesky ghost of B-Ben sitting right around the corner, so n-not much privacy really."

A chuckle leaves Diego's mouth at Klaus' attempt to be funny in the most emotional moments. Still he can sense how touched his sibling really is by his words, hears it in the soft tremble in his brother's voice and sees it in the new tears forming in the green eyes.

"Then be ready to have even less privacy, little brother, because as from today on you're not only having your ghostly brother by your side, but also this one in flesh and blood," Diego replies with new found confidence and determination.

_I won't leave you alone with your demons. Ever again._

Klaus gives him a small, but sincere smile, before his eyes flicker sideways down from Diego's face in concern.  
"If you survive that long. How's that wound doing?"

"Oh, that," Diego waves his hand in dismissal, "went through far worse. And now, let's catch ourselves some assholes, okay?"

A lopsided grin settles on Klaus' lips, as he wipes away a few of the tears on his face. Then, with similar determination to Diego's, he steps harder on the gas, speeding up the truck.

"They won't even know what's coming for them, buddy!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about writing a third, final chapter (there's an idea that doesn't leave me alone and I think it would be a better ending to this story than this loose one right here). Tell me if you'd be interested in a short, final chapter :)
> 
> And now: Shameless advertisement for another work of mine:  
> If someone wants to read that little situation I mentioned in the 'flashback part' - the one where Klaus always puts his arm on Five's shoulder after a mission and Diego is trying the same one day only for Five to teleport away - in a more elaborated way, check out my other story ''An unlikely Pair".  
> It's focusing on Klaus and Five in their teenager years (can be read as solely brother bond or as Klaus/Five, for now at least). 
> 
> And now enough of that. Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)

**Author's Note:**

> I had a hard time trying to get their characters right, so hopefully they're not too ooc - tell me what you think.  
> There might or might not be a follow-up chapter to this one, with a brotherly face-to-face talk (was originally planned to be involved in this story, but this got longer than I thought, so I decided to finish it at this point and maybe adding a second chapter if time and motivation is on my side).
> 
> Also, constructive criticism is always welcome. Still trying to improve my english writing skills, so if you find any grammar mistakes or other things, don't shy away from pointing them out to me :)


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